Indefinite

Future becomes present; present becomes past... But what happens to the past? Through repetition, it becomes the future.

Incongruous

Leap, womp, Terry-Allen tree,

Loop-lop, flip-flop, tweedlee-dee!

Why can't I have some cherry pie?

Pull me a slice and a glass of rye!

Please please please don't kick me down

If I fall I'll look a-clown!

Tap-tap-tap, my heels are clickin'

Listen to the clock tick-tick-tickin'!

Crinch cranch crunch I'm eating a treat

It's not cheese and it's not meat

It's green I say, oh what could it be?

I feel real good, I feel like me.

I wish I had this treat every day!

I'd do anything, I would pay!

"So why don't you do it?" I asked dog

"So I will." and that was crog.

Suede Lips

gravity--the most compelling force

round-about my head swirls a horse

orange-red colored suede

trickles down my neck, unpaid

with guns in his pockets

and silver-gold lockets

he takes me out over the sea

and makes me a nice glass of tea

but it was drugged

kisses led from hugged

shoulders, tied down to the rails

with sugar ants marching the trails

my mesas and rivers all winding

sooner or later finding

that i will not exist

in the future, i persist

i'll be gone

under a lawn

ashes to ashes. dust to dust.

i must go, yes, i must

but not right now, i do have time

to take a time and call it mine

my time is now, it's now or never

it's forever

Amaranthine

My skin is tight and clenching, sending shivers across the plains of my body. Mother Earth massages my scalp as I pluck the strings of the Universe and sing harmoniously along with its celestial melody. The pain is released from my soul, and the empty spaces are filled with love and power, like wine taking its form in an amphora.

Upended in Disarray

Grass up above, the night below

The swirl of a swift, crashing undertow

The choke of a sweet, sick, salty death

Comes rushing out upon my breath

I begin to topple, my vision blurs

I fall off my head and land on hers

Said I was sorry and stood up straight

But all I did was a figure eight

Time

One may never know how long time will take.

Phenomena

The Earth isn't perfect so that we can live, we are living because the Earth is perfect.

Plans

The situation was, indeed, perfect. Not because anything went as planned, because nothing was planned. It was perfect because--because it went; we were, time was flowing, we felt feelings, we saw sights, we heard sounds, we tasted flavors... We were and that was that; it was, and it was perfect.

Antiquity

Tired eyes... And a face, with history, bright and shining, shouting aloud what's accumulated therein.

Mnemosyne

If memory is food piled upon a plate, knocking things from the sides down to the floor, can I not bend over and pick it up? Can I not clean up after myself in my own damned mind?

What?

What am I? Am I? What?

Space Trip

Orion's belt shines down on me tonight;

I can feel its embrace holding me tight.

It's a feeling of life, but also of death;

It's a gust of wind stealing my breath.

It's hot and cold, I can't discern the sort.

Whilst feelings of guilt and remorse retort.

The light rushes in and my mind rushes out

As I sit and watch the gnats fly about.

Though, after I leave this wonderful place,

To my body I must return, post haste.

And as I reminisce the times I've had,

The images form a scene of plaid

Dancing on screens inside my head;

Attempting to keep my hunger fed.

So now I'm floating gently away

To a place I can always come and stay.

Cornered by Intricacy

Why do I feel this way? Uncontrollable sobs burst out like a cry for help. Perhaps I know too much... Or as it may be, I just think I do. Today is not a good day. I can hardly enjoy anything because of this sickening sentiment that my tears attempt to release. What is most confusing--frustrating, rather--is why? It's something that I do not understand, and therefore I fear it. I've tried to put the puzzle together, but I'm missing so many pieces. Maybe I just need to go in a different direction, but I feel that I'm already following the right path... How can this be? These apprehensions locked within me are so intoxicating and smothering... Heavy gasps escape, yet everything remains inside.

With

I learn with my ears.

I admire with my eyes.

I express with my hands.

I opinionate with my voice.

I accept with my lungs.

I think with my brain.

I dream with my mind.

I feel with my soul.

Never

I don't want to do this. But I strut my lead-heavy feet into this disgust-filled room and over to the box. This little, silk-lined box, polished and clean--for now. Her face is old, not how I used to know it. Her eyes are closed...
She's asleep, I tell myself, But how does she look so old?
And as I stand there in front of everyone, feeling their pity and remorse stabbing into my back, I look down at her again and hear a whispering shout.
My baby, my baby, don't you cry.
In shocking awe, I reach down and touch her hand--cold. Death once again fills my head like an aching disease, and I feel that stabbing pain choke me as it dwells in my throat. The soundless tears begin to fall, and once again I hear her faint voice.
Shh, don't you cry. I'm okay, baby girl, I'm okay.
No you're not, I silently scream back to her, You're not okay, Momma, you're dead, you're gone.
But I'm here with you, she says back, I'm always with you.
But I miss you, I miss you so much.
Now, my sobs become rivers, and their roaring current brings me to my knees. And as I sit there on my feet, with my face buried helplessly into my hands, she attempts to calm me once more.
Baby girl, please hush those tears, I hate seeing you cry. I miss you so very much, too. But you can't cry forever. You have to live.
But it hurts so much, I whisper to her, almost audibly now, It hurts so much I don't think I can.
You can do anything, she tells me, You can do anything, and you know it.
Do I? I ask her. Do I know it?
Yes, you do, she assures me. You do, but you must dig deep.
Then, I feel her refulgent, ethereal hands on my shoulders, and my lamenting sobs surcease. I turn to see the hands of my sisters. I stand to embrace their warm understanding, and my mother renders one last thought into my mind.
I love you, and don't you ever forget that.
Never.

And I never heard her voice again.

Paper

This paper gently flaps in the breeze, tickled within the profound edges of this former tree. It passes through the leaves of these sustained trees all around me, and leaves with them a soothing caress. The blades of this green, green grass stand short and crisp, shaking away their brown winter caps and sprouting forth with delight.